


The Scientific Method

by asterismos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aged-Up Character(s), Author Is Sleep Deprived, Begging, Bisexual!Lance, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fantasizing, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Smut, Teasing, The Author Regrets Everything, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterismos/pseuds/asterismos
Summary: Pidge has to test out a new invention but, too embarrassed to ask anyone else to test it and unwilling to even try, she's forced to test it herself. Spoiler alert: the experiment goes off without a hitch and she gets far more than she bargained for. (Not that she's complaining. She's not. At all.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is, by far, the dirtiest thing I've ever written and my first (published) work for the Voltron: Legendary Defender fandom. Try not to be too hard on me. Also, I don't usually write het smut, so I apologize if it sucks haha I love this pairing (I blame Tumblr), and I will probably be writing more of it, so stay tuned.
> 
> Pidge is 18. Lance is 19. Characters are aged up, of course.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. x

It starts off completely by accident.

Pidge doesn't have much (any) experience with romance or sex, always so focused on school and work and science and finding her family. Not even puberty changed that, though she definitely has a much higher libido post-puberty than she did when she was thirteen or fourteen. But sex is a petty distraction from her thousand other way-more-important goals, so she wrote it off as such and didn't think about it much afterwards.

Until she met Lance.

Lance is your typical dork, your wannabe ladies man, your faux-macho dude-bro-pal. He's exactly the kind of person every girl becomes at least mildly annoyed with and tends to avoid. (Attempts to, anyway.) Pidge wasn't necessarily given that chance when she first arrived at the Galaxy Garrison under the false identity of Pidge Gunderson. She was essentially stuck with the guy and, being a late bloomer, constantly around him at the height of her maturation. Hormones, periods, and boobs (slightly below-average, if she had to admit it, but it made life pretending to be a guy easier, so it wasn't _too_ much of a problem) were huge inconveniences, but that wasn't even the last if it.

At first, Lance was every bit as annoying as she expected him to be, but the pathetic one-liners and dad jokes gradually became endearing in a way Pidge would never admit out loud. Too many nights she spent wishing she had a room of her own instead of a small room with two bunks. She often fell asleep thinking about the boy snoozing on the bed below hers. She wondered, one too many times, if Hunk in the bunk across from them and Lance below her would hear her if she allowed herself one minute, two minutes, three—just for herself—and get lost in endless fantasies. But she never dared. Not even in the shower. Never. There were far more important things for her to worry about than some stupid crush.

And then Voltron happened and Pidge found herself indulging in her stupid, endless fantasies. Never once touching. But always, _always_  thinking. Dreaming. Wishing. For Lance to notice her. For Lance to treasure her. For Lance to _pleasure_ her. For Lance to be hers and her to be his. For something. _Anything_.

When she tells the crew that, yeah, she's actually a girl, biologically female—vagina, tits, and all—her fantasies feel more like possibilities. Ideas. And she feels a tingle of excitement every time they cross her mind. Her sex drive is high, and she needs a release. The good thing is that she knows how to get it, and she has a lot more free time than she did back at the Garrison. The bad thing is that privacy on the Castle of Lions is a complete myth. Although fabled in recurring claims by both Coran and Allura, it seems the Altean people have a nasty habit of not knocking. Perhaps it's not customary, but it's hard for her to believe that the same society who was presumably the first to understand and use wormholes to bend the universe over itself to travel to two light-years-away points of it _never learned to fucking knock_.

Despite this, the idea is still exciting—the idea of someone walking in. What if it's Lance? What would he do? Pidge's thoughts run wild with the countless possibilities.

 

It's purely by accident.

She heard of vibrators before. Some girls back at Garrison had them and bragged about it, how good it felt, what it was like. Pidge never meant to listen in, eavesdrop, but she's always been too curious for her own good. It's what makes her such a great scientist. That, and she's kind of a genius. Can't forget that.

She ends up making her own. For science. Based off of the little prior knowledge she had of them and with materials found on the ship. As with any invention or gadget, the device has to be tested out. Has to. And she doubts she'll find anyone to comply. (Then again, who knows?) So she has to test it out herself, make sure it works, and that it's, ah, effective...

For science.

( _Yeah, keep telling yourself that_.)

Although it's technically always nighttime on the castleship, Pidge knows it's night specifically. Just after dinner, after everyone has already been dismissed. All of the other paladins are either in their rooms or training or in the throne-room-slash-cockpit with Allura or Coran. Pidge escaped to her room rather quickly, eager to try out her new device. She knows from hearing playful arguments inside of other rooms that the paladins' rooms were not completely soundproof. Enough that she will never be found out if she keeps quiet, though. That's really all she needs.

She starts off nice and slow, on the vibrator's lowest setting, pressing the toy gently against her clit. A gasp. The feeling is foreign. New. Good. She lets herself slip into a fantasy about Lance. His hands on her body, spreading warmth beneath his fingertips. His lips travelling down her neck. Her chest. Her stomach. Hot and wet—teasing. Him taking the toy and adding pressure. Her mouth falling open, barely able to keep herself quiet. Him smirking and telling her what a good girl she is, staying quiet like that. Telling her how good she looks, unraveling beneath him. She lets her free hand travel up the inside of her shirt, cupping her breast, lightly pinching her nipple. Then she reaches down and turns the vibrator up to its next setting. She involuntarily squeezes her thighs together, gasping at the new intensity. Then she forces them apart, beginning to squirm on her bed. She mewls, hand back under shirt, back arching off of the bed. She wants— _needs_ —so badly to have something inside of her, but she resists the urge to let her fingers do the work. She has a hypothesis that the vibrator alone couldn't get her off. She can tell she's probably wrong, but she can't think of a time that she ever enjoyed being wrong so much, if at all.

Pidge turns the vibrator up to the next setting. Without thinking, she moans, her thighs coming together again, and immediately attempts to cover her mouth with her hand, but it gets caught underneath her shirt. Oh well. Too late now.

She turns the vibrator up another two settings, feeling bold. The only sounds in the room are her gasps and pants, the vibrator, and her squirming on the bed. Pidge moans as softly as she can, wondering if maybe she's being too loud. Pidge whimpers as the pressure quickly builds, waves and waves of pleasure rolling onto one another until finally, _finally_ , she finishes with a high-pitched moan.

For a moment, she just lays there, panting, legs still shaking, body buzzing with pleasure. She opens her eyes and glances around the room, as if paranoid someone might have walked in. But it's dark and disorganized and as hopelessly empty as before. With a sigh, she pulls on a pair of shorts (not bothering with underwear), grabs a towel and a change of clothes, and heads for the showers.

 

That's one of the downsides to the Castle of Lions. The Alteans were a very open people. Nudity was not uncommon and therefore never looked down upon. It wasn't unusual for people to shower together or just be around each other completely naked in Altean culture. It should come as no surprise that their showers are separate from their rooms, like in a college dorm, and completely co-ed. Allura and Coran quickly noticed the paladins' discomfort with the showers and offered to put up curtains until they had time to work out a more permanent solution. So everyone had to shower together, pretty much, with only a thin curtain separating them. And it was impossible for them to skirt around each other, as everyone preferred different shower lengths. Instead, they learned to deal with it and grew (mostly) accustomed to seeing everyone half-naked at one point or another.

The room was circular, very similar in design as the room with the stasis pods. Nine chrome shower heads jutted out at ten-foot intervals from the single wall that encompassed the room. Like the rest of the castle, it was very futuristic and minimalist—all metal, tile, and monochrome colors with just a hit of blue. At the very least, the Altean shower was better than any college bathroom, co-ed or not.

Usually, the showers worked overtime at night. Allura was the only one who preferred morning showers. But tonight, they were blissfully empty. Pidge gives a sigh of relief and makes her way to her go-to makeshift stall, all the way in the back beside the stall directly in the middle. She turns on the shower and draws the curtains shut before she begins to undress. Then she steps underneath the warm water. She still feels as though all of her senses except one were toned down she can hone in on that sense: touch. She doesn't realize how attuned to it she became until she really  _feels_  the warm water cascading over her body. _Hot and wet._

Before she knows it, her hand is trailing down her body, stopping at the center of her source of pleasure. Carefully, very carefully, she eases a finger inside of her, brow furrowed as she takes in the new feeling. It's all entirely experimental. She doesn't know what she's doing. The few pornos she'd walked in on Lance watching back at the Garrison didn't provide much useful information. But it's a start. A guide. She's a scientist. She observes and learns and learns from failed experiments and new data. This is a scientific experiment, after all, and part one was quite the success. She has new data and needs a new hypothesis.

_I can reach orgasm through fingering alone._

All right. And now, she has to test it.

She eases her finger in and out of herself, slowly at first, tentative as always. She adds a second finger as she gains confidence and feels herself slipping into fantasy again, but she doesn't fight it. She can imagine Lance, here in the shower with her, leaning over her. His lips brushing against her ear as he whispers vulgar things to her. His fingers inside of her, sliding in and out, wet with her juices and the water running over their bodies. His dick, standing tall against his stomach, pre-cum dripping from the head to her hips. His free hand holding both her wrists over her head, bending her to his will.

Pidge backs up until her back hits the shower wall, trying to keep herself upright. She feels like her legs might give out from under her. She's so, so close.

But a voices lures her back to reality.

"Hey, Pidge," Lance greets from the stall beside her.

"Hi," she says quickly, deflating as her moment of shock draws her orgasm farther away. She tries not to scowl and fails. "Fuck."

"What?"

"Nothing." She continues to finger herself, deciding that just because Lance is here doesn't mean she can't finish up. Science is more important than Lance. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"About..." Pidge trails off. Hesitates. And, naturally, Lance drops the bomb.

"Anyone in particular?" She can hear the smirk in his voice.

Yes. "No." Pidge pauses her movements. Cramp. "Blueprints, codes, and such. Nerdy stuff. Science. Nothing important." She's breathless, and her voice sounds different. Can Lance tell?

"Science is plenty important," Lance points out. She imagines him naked beside her, hair sticking to his forehead, water dripping down his tanned torso, cock hanging heavy between his legs. Her fingers curl inside of her, hitting a spot that makes her head fall back and smack the wall. _Tell me about it._

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just hit my elbow trying to grab shampoo."

Lance laughs. "You know, back at the Garrison, I always thought you were kind of cute. You made me question my sexuality a few times. I mean, I'm pretty sure I like dudes too, but you really confused me."

"What?" Pidge asks in shock, though it comes out high-pitched because she's so, _so_ close again.

"Yeah. Crazy, right?"

A heartbeat. Two. Three.

"I could kiss you," she replies quietly. Lance doesn't reply so she assumes he didn't hear. But then he sticks his head through the curtains, eyes closed, and says, " _Really?_ " with the biggest shit-eating grin. In a panic, Pidge pulls her fingers out of herself before realizing his eyes are closed.

"Yes. Um—sure." Lance laughs and steps fully into the stall, eyes still closed. His cock is hard, she can tell, but she forces her eyes away. "You can _look_ , Lance. I'm not going to punch you."

His eyes flutter open and the grin slides off. He takes two long strides towards her. A hand flies to her bare waist, the other to her cheek.

"Wow," he whispers. "It smells like sex in here."

Pidge glares at him and punches him in the chest; Lance laughs and grabs both her wrists, takes them into the hand that was in her waist, and holds them over her head. "It's no secret what you were doing in here, Pidge. The running water barely drowned out your moans."

She peers up at him through her eyelashes, pouting. She's still so horny, wanting _more_. And here Lance is, seemingly ready to give it to her. He already seems to like having control. All she has to do is submit.

Lance leans in close, his free hand traveling from her cheek to her collarbone to the center of her chest, down to her naval and achingly close—then right back up. Pidge shudders from the sensation.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you? Me, controlling you, dominating you, _teasing_ you. And you just taking it. Letting me have my way... How badly do you want to come, babe? Tell me."

Pidge manages a whimper and a squirm. She needs him so bad. His finger traces circles on her hip, progressing downwards so slightly it's nearly unnoticeable.  
"What's the magic word?"

"Please," she begs. She squirms again. "Please, Lance. I need—fuck."

He slips two fingers in, long and slender. He bends down and nips lightly at her neck before sucking the same spot. Pidge pants as Lance eases his fingers in and out of her body. She rolls her hips, needing _more_ , but then Lance pulls his fingers out completely. "No moving."

Pidge whines but doesn't try again. She's _just so close_. She's so focused on not moving her hips that she doesn't notice Lance let go of her wrists until she sees him furiously pumping his dick. She reaches down to replace his hand with one of hers, trying to determine what feels good to him. She figures she's doing something right when he moans loudly in her ear and begins thrusting up into her hand.

Her orgasm takes her by surprise and she shudders with a moan, arching up against Lance. Then her legs, shaky and weak, give out underneath her. Lance moves quickly to catch her, his arms flying around her waist. Pidge, determined to send him over the edge, reaches between their bodies and strokes Lance's length until he finishes with a groan. Slowly, Lance half-carries, half-guides her underneath the showerhead so they can both clean themselves off.

"Can you stand?" Lance murmurs.

Pidge nods wordlessly, separating from Lance by a few inches. She can't believe what's just happened. Did they really do that? A small part of her is panicking. Where do they stand now? How had things changed? _Had_ something changed? What now? It momentarily terrifies her. The rest of her simply wants to enjoy the feeling of being in Lance's arms, the gentle kisses being placed on her skin, the tender, barely-there caresses on her back. And she knows they'll have to talk about it, but they don't have to right now. Right now, she can enjoy Lance's presence, and right now is all she cares about.

**Author's Note:**

> So... see you all in hell?
> 
> Just kidding. I hope you liked it. Or that it wasn't too shabby, at the very least. (In my defense, I was half-asleep when I wrote this at 5am.) P.S. I don't know anything about the Alteans, so I kind of winged it. Please don't hate me lol
> 
> Comment. Leave kudos. Subscribe. Offer up a sacrifice. (Brownies and baby back ribs will do.)
> 
> All the love,  
> Cass


End file.
